


Me Llamo . . .

by emrys (livingshitpost)



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, Not Beta Read, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Trans Male Héctor Rivera, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-10 00:17:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18649042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingshitpost/pseuds/emrys
Summary: Héctor Rivera, after a brief period of adjusting to his new surroundings and state of being, undergoes a routine procedure at the Department of Family Reunions.





	Me Llamo . . .

Only fifteen minutes ago, he had been walking towards the train station with Ernesto. He had been on his way home. He had been going to see his wife and his little girl again, after months and months apart. He had been _fine_.

And now he was dead.

A woman sat across from him, her dark brown curls pulled away from her face with a headband and then tied into a low bun. There were several forms spread across the desk before her, a pen in her hand, and a relaxed, almost distant familiarity about her.

"You said your name was Héctor Rivera?"

"Sí."

"Alright, Héctor. Tell me about your family."

He clacked his phalanges together in an attempt to relax himself. "I have a wife," he said softly. "Or, had?"

"Whatever you feel most comfortable with."

"Oh. Well, her name’s Imelda. Imelda Rivera. She was born in 1899. She’s still alive, as far as I know."

"As far as you know?"

"I was touring Mexico with a friend," he explained. "Ernesto de la Cruz. He was alive the last time I saw him."

"Mm." She jotted down a quick note. "Anyone else?"

"We had a daughter, Imelda and I. Socorro Rivera." He smiled a little. "We called her Coco."

"And she is . . . ?"

"Alive. I hope."

"Continue."

He thought for a moment. "Imelda’s brothers, Oscar and Felipe. They’re both alive, though."

"Señor, do you have any _deceased_ family? Aunts, uncles? Older siblings?"

"No. I’m an only child."

"Who raised you?"

His hands tightened into fists. "I don’t want to see them," he said firmly.

"Are you sure? Because you seem to match the description of a girl with an inconclusive fate — same height, same eyes, same age; even the same nose, based off that picture." She glanced up at him cautiously. "Do the names Graciela and Patrido Ramirez ring any bells?"

He glared for a moment, then sighed. "Yeah."

She frowned at a couple of documents beside her.. "Well," she said slowly, "they only had a daughter."  Then she added with a smile, "And you’re clearly not anyone’s _daughter_."

Héctor sighed again. "No," he said with a slight chuckle, "I’m not."

"Then it’s settled." She pulled open a drawer, rummaged around for a form, and filled in a few blanks before signing it and passing it off. "You can stay in the temporary housing for up to six months, but after that, I’m afraid you’re on your own. I wish I could do more to help."

He took the paper from her and beamed when he saw his name where she’d printed it neatly; _Héctor Rivera_. "Thank you," he said.

"Of course. Welcome to the Land of the Dead, Héctor. I hope you see your family again soon."

"Me too."


End file.
